Bitter Regrets
by Mage of Dragons
Summary: Thinking back, they can't help but wonder. Characters muse about love, former lovers, things left unsaid, and love forever lost. Read on for romance and angst. NEW CHAPTER UP! Varice and Numair...
1. Kel and Neal

_**A/N: If you're reading this, then welcome to Bitter Regrets. It's a bunch of one-shots based on relationships that either a) ended during the books or b) were never established during the books. In short, lots of angst about things that can't/won't/once happened. Hope you enjoy, and feel free to request a pairing!**_

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She watched his back as he walked down the hall, feeling like a page again. Why was she doing this? How could a crush, so long dead and buried, suddenly resurface, seemingly without reason? And yet, there was a reason. Kel knew that he had been drunk, and would have never said those things otherwise, but still, she couldn't help but wonder…No! What was she thinking? She had Dom; Neal had Yuki. That was how things were supposed to be. He was her best friend. Yes, she had once had a crush on him, but that was so many years ago. How could Neal even possibly cross her mind? 

At dinner, she watched from across the table as they sat and ate together, fingers entwined. She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a sad smile as she wondered, could that have been me? Would I be sitting next to him, holding hands with him, _kissing _him, if I had only told him? If we had only known that we both liked each other?

Is that the life I really want? She thought. Neal had finally found a serious relationship, something she just wasn't ready for. Besides, she had been, what, twelve, thirteen, at the time? Hardly able to accept and express "true love." They could not have courted; acting like a _girl_ around the pages would had made everything uncomfortable, even unbearable; being alone together could get them both expelled! It would have been impossible!

Keeping her crush to herself had been perfectly rational; in fact, it was the only thing she could have done. Why then, was she so sad now? Why did she keep seeing her self in Yuki's place, laughing, talking, flirting with Neal? Why had being with Dom never feel exactly right, the way Neal's company had always been? Why was Neal the only person who knew her, wholly, completely, unlike anyone else? She sadly smiled as she remembered the night before.Everything just seemed so confusing.

_"Remember that time that I found the love note you wrote to Kel? The one with all the frilly flowers in the margins?" Merric had spontaneously put in._

_"Yeah, I remember," Neal had slurred, "Keladry/I love thee/You break my heart/With tons of glee…" He laughed so hard that he fell off of his chair, and laid on the floor, hiccupping. _

_She had fled the room._

So how could knowing this, now, years later, change anything? It was too late. Those feelings were dead, gone. She had lost Neal years ago, in favor of friendship. Surely there wasn't anything to regret about that, was there?

And yet, forever on, she would see him, and with a sad smile, wonder what could have happened if she had known…


	2. Alanna and Jon

**_A/N: So I had this idea on the bus, to continue writing this idea, only on a lot of different characters. Hope you like it. And I'm sorry in advance if this is perceived as Alanna-bashing. I didn't mean to._**

Alanna stared at her hands in grief. It had taken a long time before should could even think of her husband without tears forming in her eyes, and even now, years later, time had not erased the hurt that she felt inside.

The period of time just after they were married was the happiest time in her life. And the novelty had never faded. With George, she could never be unhappy for long. She was content; she had everything she had ever dreamed of.

She had once thought that those years of joy, of happiness beyond compare, were somehow meant to balance the overwhelming grief that she felt now. However, it didn't work as planned. Remembering those happy days did not comfort her; they only made her feel the void even more harshly. For what was her life now? Her children were grown; they had no need for her. And with the realm finally in peace, there was no real work for a king's champion.

Somehow, her thoughts drifted back to her youth. She couldn't help but remember Jonathon, and the love she felt for him. He had asked her to marry him; she might have said yes, she _could_ have said yes. At the time, she thought that life as his wife would be impossible. Seeing him with Thayet had confirmed it, but now, she wasn't so sure.

She couldn't help but think that maybe, if she had married Jonathon, things would have turned out differently. She wouldn't feel this ache, the grief of knowing that her husband was dead and buried somewhere, worlds away, and the fact that she never said a proper goodbye.

She hadn't married Jonathon, because she was afraid of being unhappy—no, afraid of change. She was afraid of having to change herself, afraid that if she did, something inside her would snap, and she would no longer be protected from all of the grief she was hiding, all the sorrow she felt from the deaths of her friends and family.

Some good that had done her; here she still was, wallowing in sorrow. She had not wanted to change for love; Jonathon would not either. They were too alike, both too headstrong. And yet George had changed everything for her—he had given up the only life he knew, without her having to ask. Seeing that now, she felt guilty. She had never allowed herself to change for anyone, not even when they asked. At the time, she though it was because she wanted to be in control of her life. She could see now that she had been selfish.

Now, more and more the grief of losing Jonathon, though felt long ago, reemerged. Overwhelming regret filled her; for the life she _could _have lived, the life she refused. Maybe if she had married him, everything would have been different; George would have still been _alive, _would still have been her friend. She could never know the truth, but the thought would haunt her forever.

**_A/N: Next showing: Baird of Queenscove and Ilane of Mindelan! Don't forget to review, and feel free to suggest pairings!_**


	3. Baird and Ilane

**_A/N: Here it is, the third chappie. Hope I don't dissapoint._**

When he had first met Keladry of Mindelan, Duke Baird of Queenscove had been awestruck. The girl reminded him so much of her mother. Not so much in her looks—her features were a blend of both parents, but in her quiet manner, her fighting spirit, her calm determination, those were the legacy of her mother. They were all of the qualities that he had so treasured about her. Now seeing Ilane's daughter here before him, he did not need his Gift to tell him that this girl was destined for greatness. It was evident all around her.

Seeing her daughter and his son together made his heart ache for the days of his youth, when he and Ilane of Seabeth and Seajen had been inseparable, from the first time they had met and danced at the Prince's Birthday Ball.

Ilane had so many qualities that were unique. She was lovely, yes, tall and elegant with a musical voice and laugh, but she was also so much more. Almost every night at court they snuck away together, defying the father who would sell his daughter to the highest bride-price. He had no care for a young boy not even finished with the University, a second son who might never inherit, even if his family was in the _Book of Gold. _

During the time that her family stayed at court, they grew terribly close. Each day that no offer came for Ilane gave him more hope, until the day came when he was ready to ask her to marry him. He felt more nervous than he had ever been before.

He approached her in the hallway, stopping as he saw her pretty face masked with grief. His heart immediately sank. "'Lane, what's wrong?" he asked, with all of the tenderness he could muster. His heart was ice. He knew and feared her answer, and yet still prayed to the gods that he would be wrong bout it, just this once.

"It's Papa, Baird. He finally found an offer. I'm engaged to Piers of Mindelan now." She broke down then, and wept. He pulled her shuddering frame against her chest, trying to comfort her.

He would have to say something soon. In his eyes, he could say one of two things, what he _wanted _to say, and what he knew he _should _say. He wanted to propose to her right now, tell her to forget her father, as long as they could be together. They would the talk of Tortall, the illegitimate couple, probably scorned by most of the conservatives. They would have to leave court for sure; his parent might not let him back into the house. And even if she did, would she be happy there, cooped up as a pretty lady at his dukedom, perhaps one day as a duchess? Could she stand to be so alienated from her family, from her mother and siblings? Could _he _stand to tear her away from everything she knew and loved?

The answer was no. He couldn't. She couldn't. It could never work. So it was with a heavy heart that he say the one thing left that he could say.

"I'm sorry, Ilane. But don't worry. I know Piers. He's a good man. Hopefully he can make you happy. I-I" he stuttered, barely holding back a sob, "I wish you all the best. And I want you to know that I will always love you, no matter what."

He had never broken that promise, but he had kept it to himself, for Ilane's sake and for his own. He still wondered if what he said was a mistake. It weighed on him so heavily in the years afterward. Going to her wedding was the hardest thing he had ever done.

He still wondered if he had made the right choice. He still dreamed about her at night. And when he had met Karina of Masbolle, the though of Ilane was almost too much for him. Still, he had courted her, because Ilane was lost to him. But he could never stop his dreams…

It had taken years to get over Ilane. But now seeing her daughter here, he realized that he could never forget his first love. It killed him to, because he cared about Karina, _wanted_ to love her, but he could never forget. It was impossible.

**_A/N: Don't forget to review! And suggestions are very welcome! Thankee!_**


	4. Cleon and Kel

**_A/N: Here it is, the next chappie. I was trying to rock the "Cleon really is a good person inside" theme, because even though I hate him for being with Kel, I thnk that he has a heart of gold. Anyway, here it is._**

It was over. Oh, gods, it was over. Standing before the Mithran priest, dressed in a dark orange tunic, grey shirt, and dusty brown hose, the colors of Fief Kennan, he had married Ermelian of Aminar. By now, he should have had his hopes dashed to pieces, shouldn't he? Up until this moment, when he had kissed his new bride, there had always been hope for him that someway, somehow, he and Kel could have stayed together, no matter what anyone said. So now, with no hope left, he should have been able to give his heart to Ermelian, because he had no choice left.

Why then, could he only think of Kel, the way her eyes had widened when he had first kissed her? Why then, was his gaze on his Lady Knight friend and not on his beautiful, beaming bride?

Any man at court would say that Ermelian was a "better catch" than Kel. He hated that. He hated to hear them even talk like that. It was true, Ermelian _was _pretty, with bright blue eyes and perfect nut-brown ringlets, but how could she ever compare with Kel? The friendship, the trust, the comradeship, everything that he had enjoyed about Kel just could not exist with Ermelian. How could Ermelian, who knew nothing of blood, of war, of the stench of death, who had never entered the Chamber of the Ordeal, or risked her life for a friend, how could she ever hope to understand the life he lived, the person who he was? She couldn't.

It just wouldn't be the same. And now, on his wedding day, all he could see, all he could _think _of was Kel. No matter how much his head wanted to move on, his heart still clung to his only love. He couldn't move on, not while Kel was still alive, still in his heart. Cleon knew without a doubt that she would be there forever.

That stung him deeply. Much as he wanted to do the right thing, forget Kel and move on, at least for Ermelian's sake, if not for his own, he just couldn't. She was a good and kind person; he felt bad for her, pitied her for being stuck with him, but he didn't love her. He _wanted _to be able to love her, to make her happy, to enjoy the time they spent together, but he knew that every time he talked to her, kissed her, every night they spent alone together, he would still compare her to Kel, still imagine his love in Ermelian's place. Every time she touched him, he couldn't help but think how mush more comfort Kel's touch had given him. And it killed him, every hour of every day, to feel that way, but he knew that he could never change his heart. Some people told him that their love would grow over time. He knew, however, he could never love Ermelian they way he loved Kel. He would love her until the day it stopped beating and beyond. He would love her forever.

And knowing that killed him inside.

_**A/N: So, what do you think? I always love to hear from people. You know that of the 477 people that have read my story, only 7 have reviewed? That's crazy. Don't be in the majority folks, review! **_

**_Anyway, the next chapter is Wyldon of Cavall and an OC._**

**_Tootles, _**

**_Mage of Dragons_**


	5. Wyldon and Taryn

**_A/N: If you've ever read my poem, Duty, you know that I like Wyldon of Cavall as a character. I almost jumped at this idea when_ **Saelind **_suggested it, because I wanted there to be a reason why Wyldon hated women warriors. I had written, (but never published) a story similar to this about his oldest daughter, but then I scrapped it. Anyway, here it is!_**

Wyldon of Cavall stood, weeping, over the time-worn grave of Taryn Fletcher, the Shang Wolf. Twenty yearshe mused, it had been exactly twenty since their wedding day, twenty long years since her death. The gods must always be against him on this day. It seemed that all of his misfortune sprung from this date, First Taryn, and now _this. _

He clutched the letter tightly. The dry parchment crumpled inside his large fist.

_Training Master Lord Wyldon of Cavall,_

_I am writing to inform you, on behalf of his majesty the King, of the application for pagehood sent by one Baron Piers of Mindelan, for his daughter, Keladry. This application has prompted a discussion to be held by his majesty King Jonathon of Conte IV, in one week's time. Your presence, as Training Master, is politely requested._

Rereading the words made his heart grow cold. How could any father willingly send his daughter out to die in battle, as Taryn had?

He imagined this girl was like Taryn, beautiful and dainty, outspoken and sharp-tongued. In his mind's eye, he never imagined her as he had seen her last, rallying the fighters around her with one last cry before collapsing on the ground, the rough sword wound in her side pouring her blood onto the trampled ground. By the time the village hedgewitch had reached her, it was too late. The wound, though able to by healed, was beyond her power or prowess. He had helplessly held her unconscious form in his arms, watching her slowly die.

No he imagined her as she had appeared early that morning, their morning of their wedding day. She had shone like a gem in her white dress trimmed in silver, her red-gold hair held back by a gossamer veil. For once, her green eyes sparkled, their harsh edge softened by happiness. The morning had passed so quickly, like a sudden burst of bright light. The ceremony was flawless, though he barely remembered exchanging vows and prayers with Taryn before the Mithran priest.

The festivities had just begun when a messenger from the nearby village brought news of the unexpected. The realm was at peace; there was no reason for Scanran raiders to be ransacking Tortallan villages. And yet, somehow, they were.

Taryn had been the first to react. She threw off her veil and ran to the corner, to pull off the dress she had worn to the festivities, exposing cropped breeches and a sleeveless tunic. _How typical, _he had thought. Her cry roused him out of his stupor. With one hand on his dress sword, he had followed her, taking her outstretched hand as they ran to the stables together.

The sight they came upon was terrible. The village of King's Arrow had been burn almost to the ground. The smell of death and burn flesh was everywhere. Those who were not fighters stopped to care for the few survivors; the knights and Shang Warrior pursued the raiding party into the trees.

They found a group if fifteen men, experienced, if not trained, fighters. However, they were better dressed for fighting in worn leathers than the Tortallan fighters, whose dress tunics offered no protection at all. The men wielded their weapons, heavily crafted, crude swords and knives, slowly, though with deadly force.

He would never know how a Shange Warrior, the best fighter among them, would be the only casualty. The only possible explanation was that when he had called for help, surrounded by three of the burly men, she had been too overcome by emotion to react as she should have. He met her eyes for a second, grateful that she had entered the fray to help him, and distracted for that moment, she had been cut down.

His agony had been indescribable. The adrenaline that rushed through his veins clouded his mind, controlling him as he cut down her killer in a brutal stroke. Even so, everything he did had been in vain. The one person in the world he truly cared about had been killed, fighting in a battled that should not have occurred.

It was no consolation that all of the raiders had been punished. It was unbearable that she had died saving him. If she had not been there, had not been a Shang, then she would have been alive today.

It was the reason he had never allowed his daughter to pick up a weapon, no matter how much they begged. It was the reason he had married a girl from the convent, one who would never feel the urge, the temptation to fight.

And today, it was the reason why Keladry of Mindelan would never have a chance to become a knight, so that no other woman would die how Taryn died, and so that no other man would feel how he felt.

**_A/N: If you do not review, I will cry. That's all I am going to say._**


	6. Kalsin and Kaddar

**_A/N: So, this one is a little different. I had already started a Kel/Merric chapter when I had this really powerful image of Kalasin clucthing a red rose so hard that it made her hand bleed. Thus, this fic was born. Enjoy!_**

Kalasin stared at the grave, dry-eyed. This mound of earth was simple. There was no gold, no gems here. Just simple stone and earth.

Of course, there would be another, more _suitable _tomb. It was already almost complete, down in the city's temple district. The priests had already deified their dead ruler. Why shouldn't they? She thought bitterly, he's the one who "saved" the country from Ozorne, who built it back from smoldering ruins. Of course they would deify him, never mind the fact that half of his deeds were not his own, and everything that he had done to _her_, everything that he had _not _done to save her beautiful Carthak.

Her only regret was that she couldn't save him. She wasn't some cold-hearted killer, she wasn't even his killer, though sometimes she wished that she had been. No, she felt _bad _about his death, wished that there was some other way, but there was no sorrow in her heart for him. She had like him well enough, he was a decent person, and always painfully kind and proper towards her. But he had never, not a single time, listened to her when he most needed her help.

When she had said, demolish the slave trade now, while the damage will be small, he had pretended not to hear her, though she had repeated it for him, even more loudly. She knew that he had business in the trade, but was it so much for him to give up some of his personal wealth for the good of his people? For the slaves _were_ his people, no matter what he said. And Goddess only knows how mush of herself she had given up to help Carthak.

When she had said, stop this oppression of women, give them a voice, a seat in your Council, he had looked at her, his big brown eyes baleful, as if to say, _and what would you know about **women? **A_s if she wasn't one, as if she hadn't grown up in _Tortall_.

She had screamed. She had wept. She threw things when she was alone. But she never showed any emotion where he could see her. She picked up the broken shards of glass, dried her eyes so he wouldn't notice the tears. He would never know that she was anything less than happy.

She had known that he would ignore her when she told him about the plot against his life, about the young hotshots who ached for his death. It had almost been enough for her to not tell him at all. But she had to _try_ to get through to him, to try and be a good person, despite the years of torment.

Of course, he didn't believe her, only muttered something about Carthak's security being the best in the world. If she had cared more, maybe she could have done something. Maybe she could have saved him. If she had cared more.

But, the truth was, she couldn't even bring herself to try. She would remember the sleepless, tear-stained nights, the way he could look _at _her and _through _her at the same time, and she realized that she just couldn't care anymore. The years of being near him had poisoned her, slowly broken her spirit. She cared nothing for the man now.

There were many things that she wished that she had done. She wished that she had been a dutiful wife, or even that she had tried to be one. She wished that she could say that she had done the best thing for everyone, but now she wasn't so sure.

_I wish that I had loved him. _The thought shocked her. Maybe if she had, everything could have turned out differently. For Carthak. For him. For herself.

Her fists clenched, unfeeling as the thorns of the single red rose she held punched through her delicate skin.

_I **did** love him, she realized. Somehow, despite everything that he's done to me, I still cared for him_. Her thoughts were anguished. _Oh, Goddess, why couldn't I have known this earlier?_

"Kaddar," she whispered, falling to her knees. She dropped the rose, stained with blood, onto his grave. Why? Why had this happened? How could it have taken her this long to realize how much she cared for him?

Why didn't she save him? How could she have just let him die? Was it that it was easier to think of him fondly now that he was gone, or a trick of her treacherous mind to make her feel guilty?

No this was real. Her feelings were genuine. This was love, she realized, her heart aching. I loved him more than anything I know, and now he's gone.

If she had only cared…

**_A/N: As I said, the next chappie is most likely Merric/Kel. Hope you enjoyed this one enough to review. (coughcoughthat's a hintcoughcough). Wow, I sound like my little brother. That's scary!_**


	7. Merric and Kel

**_A/N: Here it is, the MerricKel chapter. Several weekers later than scheduled, I might add. However, several factrs contributed to this. 1) Track AND soccer started, leaving me with virtually no free time. 2)I decided to do a "case study" on Merric because I realised that I couldn't write about him very well, and so I read all the POTS books again and marked all the pages where Merric appears. 3)I decided to rewrite it, because the first one kinda made Merric seem like a rapist. On a more cheery note, without further ado, here it is: chapter seven of bitter regrets._**

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Merric was heartbroken. The ice that held his heart captive made his chest ache. This feeling was so much more than the hollow feeling of loneliness that plagued his nights. And, he thought, it was silly, too. He wasn't even sad for himself. No, he was sad because one of his friends was feeling sad and lost and lonely. This was so strange, so alien to him. He _never_ felt empathy towards another person. 

But Kel _wasn't_ just another person. She was his commander, his comrade, his friend, his---love, no, not love, that word implied that his feelings were returned. Which they obviously weren't. Sergeant Dom, Cleon, Tobe, and Neal, among others, were higher up on her list of affections than he. Nevertheless, he would do anything for her. He would follow her to the end of the earth, even die for her. He _had_ followed her, half-dead and strapped to his horse, as she ran into Scanra to find the Nothing Man. He would follow her anywhere, die for her, gladly, because she meant so much to him.

When Kel had returned from Scanra and seemed so sad, so lonely, so distant, he realized that it hurt to love someone and not be able to comfort them. It hurt him to know that she thought he resented her. What she didn't realize was that he could never be angry with her, only himself. She had been put in command of Haven, and then New Hope, because she was the best one for the job. She was his commander. He did resent that. In every ballad, every romantic poem and book, it was always the girl who needed to be rescued and protected. Instead, it was Kel who saved his life time and time again, Kel who helped him fight, Kel who rescued _him. _She had journeyed into Scanra to save her people. He only wished that he could have done more. She was such a good person, he could never compare, could never find it in himself to care for commoners, who cared nothing for him.

He tried to pretend like what he felt didn't exist. He forced himself to treat her like one of the boys, envying the ease with which Neal and Cleon and Dom interacted with her. But it was all a lie. He could joke with her, call her milady mother and Protector of the Small, but he had to choke the words out of his mouth.

Being around her had become so hard. Lying to her was harder still. Because of that, he had begun to avoid her, afraid that he would do something stupid. That just seemed to hurt him even more. He missed her now; he missed the friendship they had shared.

He could never admit his feeling for her, he knew. He was too proud to admit to other people that he was the victim of such a silly thing as love—he, the warrior! No, he would just have to endure this in silence, he resolved.

But every day grew harder. When his friends told him how she missed him, it was almost too much to bear. He was sorry; he was too busy he said, but each of their words only added to his confusion. Maybe he had a chance with her? It was unthinkable, but the words gave him a blind hope. Every word, every gesture of hers he began to read in his favor; he became rashly sure of himself, until the day she finally confronted him.

By chance, he had bumped into her one night. She had turned to him. "'Ho, Merric,"

"Hullo, Kel."

"Merric, where have you been these days? We hardly ever see you," she said softly.

"Oh, well, I've been busy."

"Well, you should take a break some time; come enter in our competitions. I'm sure that everyone would be glad to see you again. I know that I would."

_I know that I would. _She had said it. She wanted to see him! Something hot burned his veins; his cheeks flushed. Suddenly, he choked, nervous. What could he say? His brain froze.

"Oh. Um, okay. Yeah, maybe I'll see you sometime. G'night, Kel." Feeling the fool, he forced himself to walk away. _Damn. _

He slammed the door to his room upon entering. His temper snapped. "Stupid! I had her; that was the perfect moment! I blew it!" Aware that other people might hear his late night rant, he softened his tone. He looked for something to throw; there was nothing. He had never bothered to furnish his room with anything other than a bed, a desk, and a clothespress. He threw his pillow on the ground.

That was it, he was sure. That was the sign that they would never be together. He had been too shy, too stupid to even say anything…intelligent to her. He forced himself to accept it. He needed to accept the fact that he would love Keladry of Mindelan forever, and it killed him to know it.

When things got too bad, and he almost said something to her about his feelings, he replayed that night, and it convinced him that he could never give Kel the love that she needed. And that was enough to staunch his wounds.

He watched her get married, have children, grow older, happier. He himself never felt quite whole. For always, one thought stayed with him, no matter what.

_I was so close. _

He would never forget it, never forget Keladry of Mindelan.

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**_A/N: Okay, I have a million ideas for the next chapter, so I'm going to take a poll. I will provide you with my list of story ideas, and you can vote on your favorite three. But you can only vote if you review! To vote, type the header, POLL, and list the numbers (or names of) the (up to) three 'ships you like best. Based on how many reviews I get right away, I could begin working on the first one as soon a Chirstmas eve, to keep myself busy. But if you're a little late, don't worry, I'll write the next chappies in order of poularity, so the more votes a story gets, the sooner it gets published. So if there's a pairing you reall want to see, get everyone you know to vote for it!_**

**_PS. I'm not going to write two different chapters from the same person's perspective, even if it is a differnt pairing, so while I might include the same characters in different chapters, the point of view will be whose ever name is written first._**

**_Okay, Bitter Regrets Poll #1:Which Paring Do YOU like best? (In no particular order)_**

1:Quasim and Kel

2: Dove and Taybur

3. Taybur and Aly

4: Varice and Numair

5: Kipryoth and Aly

6: Kaddar and Daine

7: Phelan and Verene

8: Matthias and Mayarral

9: Rosto and Kora

10: Rebakah and an OC (the person she mentions "canoodling" with once)

11: Roald and Kel

12: Raoul and Alanna

13: An OC and Thom (elder)

**_I think that's it for now, feel free to suggest any. However, I absolute, positively REFUSE to write anything that is remotely PerinDaine or RaoulKel. Ewww. Or any slash. Sorry, folks, but no. I might consider doing a JorenKel, if I can find a good argument for it. So far I haven't. Anyway, VOTE! REVIEW! Make your voice heard! Thankee,_**

**_Mage of Dragons_**


	8. Roald and Kel

**_A/N: Okay, I know it's been a terribly long time. And it's all my fault, since I actually wrote this about a week ago. I guess I'm just lazy. Or forgetful. Or both. Anyway, you have my full and express permission to hate me as long as you read this chapter. _**

**_So, without further ado, I give you the winner of the Bitter Regrets pairing poll; Roald and Kel, told from Roald's POV. Enjoy!_**

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Roald sat at the high table, more miserable than he had ever been. He hated being here right now, sitting like a gilded lily on a fancy pedestal. It was midwinter, the most joyous time of the year, and he was stuck at the banquet's high table, frustrated, sullen, and bored to tears. All he wanted was to be able to leave this table, grab a serving tray, and join the other squires, who, despite their chores, seemed to be having much more fun than he.

His eyes unconsciously slid to one figure among the crowd of his friends. I don't want to join all of the squires, he mused, just one in particular. She stood, idly chatting with Cleon. Shinkokami asked him a quiet and painfully polite question about one of the appetizers. He answered her wordlessly, his eyes never leaving Kel's face. Her eyes shone as she let out a small laugh at one of Cleon's jokes.

He longed to run over to her, to make her smile and laugh the way Cleon and Neal did now. For once in his life, he hated his duties as Prince. For once, he wished that he could throw away his shining gold crown, and with it, rid himself of his carefully cultivated sense of duty and his love of chivalry, the two things which had always comforted him, gave him an answer to the guilt he felt for bring born Prince. These were the only things that kept him here, exchanging pleasantries with people he cared nothing about. It made him stifle his yawns, smile politely when he wanted to scream in annoyance. Why wouldn't it? It was what he had been born and bred to do. But it could never keep him from wanting to be with Kel.

He twirled his wine glass in his fingers absently as he daydreamed. Suddenly, he looked up. Kel and Neal were gone. Shinkokami was also no longer sitting beside him. He was secretly glad for that small blessing, for his sense of duty immediately lessened.

He was searching the room for any sign of Kel when someone tapped his shoulder. He found himself face-to-face with Neal and Cleon. Chatting cordially, they skillfully led him to the door of the great hall. There, he hesitated. He really should stay in his place, or at least try to search fro Shinkokami, he thought, at the same time realizing that he didn't care. Kel's face flashed in his mind's eye. Take me somewhere, take me anywhere, just take my mind off of her and these gods-blessed _duties. _

The two squires led him through the festive halls to the book room. Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak greeted him at the door. Commander Tourakom, his mother's best friend, handed him a glass of something fruity, red, and definitely alcoholic. Taking a grateful sip, he stepped farther inside, and saw that Kel was talking to Yuki, her face bright and animated. He felt himself smile, but froze instantly as he recognized the third member of the little party; Shinkokami was seated on a Yamani-style cushion across from Kel. When Kel paused in her speech, she looked up. The Yamani girl's eyelashes fluttered when their eyes met, and she looked away, hiding her face behind her fan.

"Kel was just telling us about the bandit hunt that Third Company went on last summer," Buri put in helpfully, breaking the heavy silence.

"We thought that maybe, you'd want to come, too," good-natured Cleon said sheepishly, "Midwinter's s'posed to be about celebrating friendships, you didn't look like you were having much fun up there, so we thought we'd help you out. 'Cause we're your friends, and all."

"Oh…yes, of course, thank you," discipline replaced his absent mind. His eyes had strayed to Kel's face again.

At first, the talk meant nothing to him, distracted as he was. But Kel's voice drew him slowly into the battle. He began to notice the keen questions that Shinkokami quietly murmured. They were questions _he _would have asked. A warrior's questions. She knew a surprising amount about battles and war. As she talked, her dark eyes lit with an interesting fire. Something made him look over Shinkokami's face again. She was pretty; everyone had noticed that the first time they had seen her in the mess hall. But she was also intelligent, and kind, everything one would wish for in an arranged marriage.

All at once, his sense of duty, held at bay be hopeful dreams and a not insubstantial amount of wine, came crashing back. His neck felt hot and clammy. He could feel his father's eyes boring into his skull from the oil painting that hung far above them. Every lesson, every talk with his father about duty and honor came to mind with astonishing clarity. At first, he had not cared about what his father had to say; but after almost two decades, duty and honor had become his life, his heart. He could not escape.

He was duty-bound to this girl. He would marry her, not Kel. It was as sure as the sun's rising. There was no way to honorably way to escape an arranged marriage such as this, which to him, meant that there was no way at all. He thought of the Code of Chivalry, the duties of a Knight, and his duties as Prince and as a person, and felt all his hopes crumble like clay.

For, in the end, he realized that he could not escape duty. Every lesson he had ever been taught had been crafted to mold him, transform him into the perfect product of his position and heritage, the perfect king whose sense of duty always came before anything else, especially his self. He had always thought that, if he wanted, he could ignore these lessons, and follow what he wanted. Roald now knew that it was impossible. Those lessons were his self; they _were_ what he wanted most. He had become duty, in the most complete way, and his duty was to marry Shinkokami, love her, even.

He looked at Kel and shivered. The spark was still there when he looked at her, but now, instead of making him feel giddy, he felt sick and dirty. By loving Kel, he was ignoring his duties, to his parents, to whom he owed allegiance, to his people, who would one day need Shinkokami as their queen and Yaman as their ally, and to Shinkokami herself, who had done nothing wrong and deserved his whole heart.

All at once, he realized what he had just done inside his heart. He had, surely and completely, cut himself off from Kel. He would still love her, maybe forever, he didn't really know. The spark would still be there, but he couldn't think about it, couldn't ever acknowledge that it was there. He could never be with Kel as long as Shinkokami was living, as long as he was still Roald and duty still ruled his heart, for he was a man the shackled of duty held tighter than any other, but, after all, he had become what he had been born, bred, raised, _created _to be. Duty.

So, with one last inward sigh, and a blink of his traitorous eyes, he pushed Kel from his mind and turned towards Shinkokami. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but it was the only thing he could do. It was duty. It was more than an obligation, more than even a law; it was his heart and soul at their most basic point.

And duty could never be ignored.

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**_Bitter Regrets Poll Update; here were the results from last chapter. _**

**_(This poll isn't closed. I'm still taking votes. Even if you voted before. You just have to review!)_**

**_So currently, the order in which the next pairings will be written (subject to change based on incoming votes) is..._**

_(Roald and Kel, with 4 votes._ Which is interesting, because I added as an afterthought. I hadn't really planned on writing one. Shows how much I know.)

_Kaddar and Daine, with 3 votes. (_actually 2, but one of them is mine, since I already started writing it...lol)

Tied for third... with two votes...

_Taybur and Aly_

_Quasim and Kel_

_Raoul and Alanna_

and, with one vote each

_Rosto and Kora_

_Dove and Taybur_

Other pairings up for election include...

_Varice and Numair_

_Kipryoth and Aly_

_Phelan and Verene_

_Rebakah and an OC_

_An OC and Thom I_

_Possibly Joren and Kel, if you can give me a good reason._

_**And, to sum up this INCREDIBLY long author's note, I will give you my expanation of these pairings, because some of you have asked for pairings that you won't get to see here, at least in Bitter Regrets. And you shoudl know why. This is a direct quote from the e-mail I sent to A Symphony of Sound.**_

_**"You asked if I could do anything that was Evin/Miri, Kel/Joren, Kel/Dom, Aly/Nawat, Daine/Numair, Neal/Yuki, Roald/Shinko, or Rebekah/Rosto. The reason that I didn't list those pairings is that I'm writing these stories about pairs that didn't end up together. And while we didn't really learn about Evin and Miri and Kel and Dom, those pairings seem the most likely. And, while we're still waiting to hear on the Beka/Rosto situation, Rosto is the Rogue. George is the Rogue. Seems likely that they're related, right?"**_

_**Anyway, I know I bored you to tears, but I hope that you can find it in your hearts to still review and vote. Thanks to all of my great reviewers.**_

_**Mage of Dragons**_

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	9. Kaddar and Daine

**_A/N: Hey guys, its finally up. This is the KaddarDaine edition of BR. Hope you like it. I think it gets a rating of cute, at least. I don't know if it's as angsty as I wanted it to be but I can't really judge. Anyway, R&R!_**

**_Disclaimer: The text in italics is modified from the _Emancipation Proclamation,_ written by Pres. Lincoln. "Yay Lincoln!" As my friend Aileen would say. Anywhoo, not mine._**

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Kaddar Gazanoi Illiniat sat at his ornate ebony desk, feeling hopeless and overwhelmed. He had sent his guards out; now, more than ever, he wanted to be alone. Though they stood outside his study door, carefully alert, the absence of their flashing red-and-gold tunics had already made him less tense. His magical jewels lay strewn on the polished wood before him, abandoned and removed for the first time since his mother had given them to him.

Though more at rest, he felt naked and exposed; his self seemed so tiny inside the sloping walls of the room. He felt completely unlike the Emperor of Carthak, the wealthiest nation in the world, should. He felt young and unprepared and very un-royal and un-glamorous. He knew he could not compare to the conceit air or powerful, intimidating prescience of his uncle.

For now, he was alone with himself and his thoughts, or at least as alone as he could ever be. There were seldom times when the Emperor of Carthak was left unguarded.

He had never been at peace since he had taken the throne; his uncle had left the government in ruins, rived only by Daine's physical destruction of the palace. That had taken place almost two years ago. Two years; it seemed so very long ago.

Thinking bask to those weeks before he had ascended the throne, he realized that those short days had been some of the only peaceful and happy days he had experienced. Daine was the only person he had ever felt comfortable enough with, safe enough with to relax. She did not judge him like the noble did now; she did not say that he was crazy like his uncle, or that he was too young, too much of a scholar to rule the empire. She had known and judged him as a person. She had simply listened to him, and gave him her own opinion on his problems. Talking with her was so clean, compared to all the messy and argumentative conversations that he had now.

He had been to busy to realize it before, but he missed her down-to-earth manner, her quiet charm and her sense of humor. If Daine were here, he knew, she would set his problems straight. She had a clear head and a pure heart, and still wasn't above saying "You people are fair vexing!" in a fit of exasperation. Now, he realized all the times he wished that _he_ could have said that when all of the nobles and landowners began on their rants.

He had only exchanged on letter with her; he was simply too busy, he thought. But as his thoughts drifted back to her stormy blue eyes and stubborn chin, he realized something else entirely. He was in love with her. He missed her more than anyone else; not even his father could compare. Daine was a suppressed hurt; she had always been not quite there, but always in the back of his mind. He remembered all of the times he had smiled as something reminded him of her.

He thought back to that summer. It seemed ages ago. The strange conversation he had held with Master Numair came to his mind. The mage had been warning him away from the young Gallan, and though the mage had not said it, Kaddar knew now that Numair was in love with his young student. But the conversation had seemed irrelevant at the time. He had not realized that he had been-and still was-in love with Daine.

This revelation only caused him new heartache. His love was fruitless, unrequited. Daine lay hundreds of miles away; and even if she and Numair had not realized their love, the constraints of politics still bound him like chains. He was engaged to Kalasin of Conte, Princess of Tortall. His heart was not his to give away.

Still, he realized that he could not help his love for Daine. It had lasted these long and lonely years they had spent apart, un-stoked and un-fueled. It would not easily fade, but he must always hide it.

With a sigh, he picked up a quill, intending to scribble a letter to her. The thoughts that floated through his mind were tired, almost resigned; friendship must replace love. If I cannot be her love, I can at least be her friend.

However, what he wrote was much different. Looking at his words, he realized that what he felt for Daine was true love, if anything of the sort existed.

_Whereas, on the twenty-second day of September, in the year four hundred and fifty-five in the human era, a proclamation was issued by the Emperor of the Glorious Nation of Carthak, containing, among other things, the following, to wit:  
_

_"That on the first day of October, in the year four hundred and fifty-five in the human era, all persons held as slaves within Carthak, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free; and the Executive Government of Carthak, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom._

_Now, therefore I, _Kaddar Gazanoi Illiniat_, Royal Emperor of the Glorious Nation of Carthak, by virtue of the power in me vested by the Great Gods, of the Army and Navy of Carthak and as a fit and necessary measure to restore to all people their natural and God-given rights, do, on this first day of October, in the year four hundred and fifty-five in the human era, and in accordance with my purpose so to do publicly proclaimed for the full period of one hundred days, from the day first above mentioned, order and designate the following, to wit: _

_And by virtue of the power, and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves within the Glorious Nation of Carthak, and all territories, are, and henceforward shall be free; and that the Executive government of Carthak, including the military and naval authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of said persons._

_And I hereby enjoin upon the people so declared to be free to abstain from all violence, unless in necessary self-defence; and I recommend to them that, in all cases when allowed, they labor faithfully for reasonable wages. _

_  
And I further declare and make known, that such persons of suitable condition, will be received into the armed service of Carthak to garrison forts, positions, stations, and other places, and to man vessels of all sorts in said service. _

_And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Gods, upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Mighty Mithros._

_In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of Carthak to be affixed. _

_Done at the Capital City of Carthak, this twenty-second day of September, in the year four hundred and fifty-five in the human era. _

There. He had done it, the one thing that she had wanted most where she had been here. He took one final look at what he had written and sealed it into an envelope. He would submit it to Congress that afternoon. Almost everyone would oppose it, but, for the first time, he didn't care about popularity or favor. He would use the power of the Emperor to override the Congress' vote. When it was published, it would remind himself, symbolize to the world, the girl, and the love he would never forget.

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**_A/N: You know, reviewing makes me really happy. And if you ask nicely, I can probably post the next chappie within 24 hours. I like this one. It's from Terrier-- PhelanVerene, and it fits in with the books. So, drop me a line, even if its a simple, "I like this" or "Hey, thanks for writing" or even "Potatoes!" Wow, I guess I'm tired. Now back to writing an A.P. US History paper. How boring. _**

**_MoD_**


	10. Phelan and Verene

It was her voice he missed the most, Phelan thought. Sometimes he saw snatches of Verene in everyday life; things that almost could be her; the glint of sunlight off of golden-brown hair, a bubble of happy laughter. Seeing the Puppy trim on Beka's tunic brought tears to his eyes. But there was nothing here, in the realms of the living that could possibly hope to compare to her voice.

He missed all the times they had sung together, the times that he had felt like he was soaring as his voice harmonized with hers.

He wasn't stupid. When he had become a Puppy, he knew that there would be casualties. He knew how dangerous the job could be. Gods, Ahuda and everyone else had practically tattooed into their skulls the fact that two in every ten Puppies die in their first year. But, naively, he had thought that even if this happened to him(in his mind, already very unlikely), he would be strong enough to deal with it.

He had been wrong.

Now, life hardly seemed worth living.

On that night, everything had changed. For the thousandth time, disgusted thoughts ran through his mind. Rollo was stupid… Otelia was drunk…And now, Verene was dead. Because of them. Her Dogs, the ones who were supposed to protect her, had thrown her away.

On that night, his beloved system, his heroic Dogs had crashed before his eyes. It wasn't the dying that bothered him so much. He had almost been ready for that, or at least as anyone can be. But it was Verene, and the stupidity of it all. Right now, he just wanted to die, but something in him wanted his death to mean something. What he needed was a cause, a reason to die.

But now, he couldn't do anything to erase Verene from his mind. He hadn't even said goodbye, just smiled at her and knew that, come watch's end, she would be back with him. He had taken that for granted, taken _her_ for granted. Now, his beautiful, brave Verene was gone, and his heart still ached for the little things that he had loved so much about her.

He was so full of regrets…They ate at him from the inside. No matter what Rosto said, or how many times Beka said that Verene hadn't been angry, he couldn't help but blame himself.

Maybe, if he had loved her a little more, maybe, if he hadn't inflated her ego so much…maybe…

Gods, he missed her so much, and he despised the dogs who had done this to her. Just passing a kennel made him feel sick with disgust

Beka said that Verene wouldn't have liked it, all of his moping. She would have wanted him to do something. Go back to the Dogs, she urged. But he couldn't. Just the thought of them made him fill with rage.

He had to do something, though. Beka was right. He couldn't sit and mope. He would do it in memory of Verene. He would fight back at the Dogs who had robbed him of his Verene.

Feeling sure of himself for the first time since Verene had died, he picked himself up fro his bed, and walked slowly but surely downs the streets of Lower Corus, to the Court of the Rogue.

With each step, he said, _this is for you, Verene. _

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**_A/N: Review, please? Next one is most likely Aly/Taybur. _**

**_Mage of Dragons_**


	11. Alex and Alanna

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A golden radiance outlined her features as she stood, panting, fists still raised. Time was moving so slowly, but his mind and heart were racing, He had felt his knees buckle, but he had not yet hit the floor. He watched the sweat bead on her forehead.

_So, is this it, then?_ He wondered. _She finally beats me_. There was no resentment in that thought, only acceptance and almost a kind of relief. Alanna had finally beaten him. Alanna. Ever since he had found out her secret, she had been Alanna to him, and inside his mind. It was so much more natural than "Alan" had ever been to him. And, just like her name in his mind, her triumph over him also seemed natural.

He was dying; his nerves reminded him as even more unbearable pain coursed though him. His vision was almost completely black. He was dying, and yet, all he could think of was her. Wasn't that so unlike him, the proud, selfish Alex? And yet, somehow, it was completely a part of him. From the start he had been fascinated by her, almost obsessed with her. It was only fitting that she be here now. He felt no animosity towards the small woman who stood beside him. His killer. _How could I ever hate her? _He wondered.

Was this love, then? He had before experienced the physical—there were always pretty girls willing to spend the night with a young, handsome, glorious, up-and-coming knight of the Realm. But was this really what everyone meant when they said "love"? Was love the fact that, no matter what she did, he would always forgive her, never hate her? Did he love Alanna?

He would never learn the answer. Alex gave out one, last, deathly sigh as his heart labored one last beat before surrendering. His eyes and mind went slowly blank, and his body went limp as his spirit seeped out of his frame, screaming silent injustice for this situation. He _had _loved her, he was almost sure. Wasn't that reason enough to let him live? At least so he could know?

A black figure approached him, beckoning, but Alex turned back to face the lady knight. As he faded into the Peaceful Realms, he thought that he could just hear her mumble his name, which only made him howl all the harder.

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**_A/N: Review?_**


	12. Liam and Alanna

**_A/N: I know, I'm a bad girl. I promised you an Aly/Taybur, but neither of the past two chapters are. I guess I've just been hit by random whims, beacuse I just picked up the SOTL series and reread it, even though I don' generally like it as much. And these two hit me. I realised, that, after just finishing LR, that Liam, like Wyldon, Raoul, Roald, and Owen, is one of my favorite minor characters. So of course he deserves a chapter. And of course, I have to write it NOW, at 11:11 at night, even though I've been bored all week during the DAY and just want to go to sleep. And then, as I was walking to the computer, this quote (see below) came over the speakers, and it seemed fitting. So, here it is._**

Disclaimer: Grr. I'm too tired to think. Consiter this fic disclaimed.

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"Is it **enough** to **die**? Somebody save my life- I'd rather be **anything** but **ordinary**." Avril Lavigne

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Liam Ironarm looked down at the letter he had written with a heavy sigh. Never before had his emotions been so complicated or conflicted. With every word he wrote, Alanna's face burned brightly in his mind. Never mind that she was only some feet away, out on the deck of the ship. She was aeons away from him now.

His Kitten… he loved her more than he had ever loved another person. His biggest regret was their romance. It had been so short, and it had left them both injured. _Was it really worth it, after all? _He wondered. He had known that one way or another, they-he- would not last the year. He had tried anyway, because he believed in seizing the moment. But was the hurt really worth what he had gained?

He could never give all of his heart to her, but not for the reasons she thought. Yes, he feared magic, hated and feared it as he should nothing on this earth. But, for her, he could have set his feelings aside. No, what held him back was the dim haze that he had felt slowly approaching for the past few months. _You will know your time, _the Doi woman had said so long ago. He knew that his fate was coming.

This had colored him from the start. In the beginning, it was what drew him to her. She was so full of life; he hoped that, with her, he could dispel that blackness he felt in his heart. It had worked for a time. However, as he began to know her, he saw just how deeply wounds of the heart cut her, how they lingered inside of her. She didn't deserve to be hurt again.

There was no way to save her from hurt entirely, this he realized. He did not have enough time for that. But she needed closure. She needed a reason. So he had begun to push her away. The Doi woman again at the Roof of the World had reminded him of what he needed to do. When she came down from Chitral, he had finally told her.

That had been the hardest thing he had ever done. Every fiber of his being wanted to be with her, to stay with her forever. Even as he screamed at her through his masquerade, he longed to kiss her. He knew that, given the time, they could have made it together. But the Gods wouldn't grant him that. Goddess knew that he had been given far more than many others in this life. It was too much to beg another favor, when his life had been all he had dreamed and more.

_Its better this way, _he thought to himself. Now, when his time came, at least she would not have these same regrets that filled him, at least she would not weep for the life that they missed, as he did, because she won't believe that it could have existed. Only he knew the truth. And that was the problem.

It hurt him so much to have to let go of her. He wanted so badly to be with her to the end. It hurt him now to be without her when he loved her so much. Why did he put her feelings before his, injuring himself to save her?

_Because, for me, this pain only has to last a little longer, _he knew, _and because I love her. Isn't that enough? Isn't that what love is? Wanting the one you love to be happy, even if it hurts you?_

Even as he knew in his mind that this was the best for the both of them, he wept silently for the times, the experiences, the _love _that he had lost. It was enough for him to know that he was protecting her, he thought. But still, he wept for himself.

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**_A/N: Alas, life has been so boring without school! Send me a review and make my day!!!_**


	13. Varice and Numair

**_A/N: I am still kind of in a state of disbelief that I wrote this. Varice was one of my least favorite characters, and now... I think I have invented or discovered or uncovered new complexities, that to me, make her almost bearable. Yuk. Anyway, I have been trying to update for a while now, since this is my most popular fic, and you all deserve it, but I couldn't get my mind around my notes for the Aly/Taybur one I've been writing. And sorry that this one is so short, I've been in "drabble" mode for about two weeks now with a FMA piece called "Sum of the Parts." If anyone watches Fullmetal Alchemist, you should check it out. Okay, I'm done. So, enjoy!_**

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Many things have been said about Varice Kingsford. But never has it been said that she does not try. She has never been the smartest, the prettiest, the most Gifted. But, over the years, she has found that a little effort can go a long way. Still, sometimes, when she looks around at the status she has acquired, at her noble and powerful friends, and luxurious quarters, she cannot help but feel that somehow she does not belong. The people around her play the battle of politics with ease; weave their minds over complex theorems in their spare time. At the University, things were different. While others were out, showing off their talents, boasting and bluffing, wasting their time, she was locked inside her room, trying to keep up with what came so naturally to the rest of them.

However, when that term of her life was over, and her _real_ life began, she began to realize that no late-night study sessions, no amount of memorization could help her in the confusing, tangled dance that was the Carthaki Nobles' Court. While her friends from the University spoke of the effect of different variables on arcane types of magic, she wondered at the brilliant lights which her magic could produce. As they pondered heavy tomes of literature, she took long walks in the gardens to admire the flowers. Everywhere, the sense of not belonging, the feeling of not being good enough pervaded. Still, she tried to keep up, at least for appearance's sake. And especially for _him. _That world, the world she was only a traveler in, was his. He was at home with the battles of wits and clash of Gifts. So, still she tried. For _him. _

There was, though, one day when she realized that she did not want try anymore. Why should she pretend? Her interests, her talents, her self-measures were far different from any of theirs. She was tired of trying to make herself measure up. And, after _he _left, there was nothing left to anchor her to their dusty, wordy, philosophical world. For once, she would just try to be herself, to do the things that came naturally.

Still, when _he _returns, so many years later, with his same dark, open face and his same, thoughtful, far-away eyes, it makes her heart contract with sadness. It is only at those times when she truly wishes that she _had _tried, a little more, a little harder to be a part of that world. For him.

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**_A/N: Review? I'm still taking votes/requests for pairings, and hopefully I will get the Aly/Taybur one done soon. As always, reviews are appreciaited, and are directly propotionate to my update speed. _**


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